Thicker Than Water
by Medieval Liz
Summary: Frank and Joe Hardy are unusually close for siblings. But were they always that way? What was it that solidified the bond of trust and love between them? -- AU/Younger Hardy's Frank 16/Joe 14
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: So this story is a work in progress. It's something I've been writing in between everything else I've got going on as a writers block breaker. I don't know how frequent updates will be, or if it will ever get finished, but I felt like it was decent enough to put out there for other people to read and maybe enjoy it.

**WARNING:** There is violence, mild torture, and the occasional cuss word. Since I don't know exactly where it's going, if anywhere, I've rated it T just to be on the safe side.

**DISCLAIMER:** Unfortunately, I do not own Frank and Joe Hardy. I just like playing with them from time to time.

**A/N #2:** If you have suggestions, something you'd like to see happen, or any such thing, feel free to PM me and since this is a WIP I might be able to work it in.

-Liz

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

"Why aren't you dressed yet, Joey?"

Fourteen year old Joe Hardy rolled his eyes at his mother as he walked from the fridge to the table, a jug of milk in one hand. "It's Joe, Mom." He kicked the appliance door shut and sat at the table where he'd already poured a bowl of cereal. "And the Queen of Sheba is still in the bathroom."

"Be nice, Joe," Laura admonished with the shake of her head.

The youngest hardy snorted and poured the milked over the cereal. "Well if he didn't spend forever in there preening-"

"It takes you two minutes, you slob." Entering the kitchen, sixteen year old Frank set his back pack on an empty chair. He scowled when he saw what Joe was scooping from his bowl. "That's my cereal, jerk-wad!"

"Is that why it's so bland?" The younger boy quickly stuck the cereal laden spoon into his mouth as Frank took the bowl. "All the other cereal is gone," Joe said around a mouthful of milk and flakes.

"Because you hork it down like a Hoover," taking a spoon from the drawer, Frank leaned against the counter and started eating. "It's why Mom started buying me my own, so I could actually get something to eat in the morning."

"I'm a growing boy."

"So am I, but you don't see me gorging myself like a pig every chance I get."

"I can make you some toast," Laura offered with a sigh, hoping to avoid yet another confrontation between her sons.

"It's not like he's an invalid, Mother," Frank shook his head. "He can get himself something else to eat if he's hungry."

Joe glared at his older brother before turning to his mom. "Thanks, but I'm good. Already ate two bowls of cereal."

Narrowing his eyes at the other boy, Frank lifted the cereal box from the table and growled when he noticed how light it was. "Joe! This was practically full yesterday!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Stay away from my stuff, _Joey_."

"It's Joe, _Francine_."

"Frank!" Laura exclaimed when her eldest son slapped his brother upside the head. Joe hit Frank with a backhand to the stomach. "Joe! That's enough, both of you! Joe, get dressed. Frank, take the trash and recycling to the curb."

"But that's Joe's job." The older boy moaned.

"And now it's yours." Laura crossed her arms over her chest. "If you want the car today you will do as you're told. Understood?"

"Yeah, I got it," Frank tossed his half-full bowl into the sink and glowered at Joe as he opened the door to the garage.

When it closed, Joe turned to his mother with a frown. "Frank has the car today?"

The aggravated woman sighed and moved to the sink, rinsing out the dirty bowl. "Yes, Joe, Frank is taking the car to meet Sam and your father at the office, and then he's taking it to Karate class."

"Oh," he mumbled dejectedly.

"You know the rules," Laura said, sympathetic to the sullen expression on her youngest son's face. "No helping your father with his cases until you're fifteen." She offered him a reassuring smile. "It's only a few more months."

"Yeah, I know that." He corrected her assumption. "But that's not the reason I'm bummed. I was hoping to get a ride to the library to meet up with Iola and Biff."

"On a Saturday?"

"There's a test Monday."

"Then I suggest you start making nice with your brother."

"Great," he muttered as he started for the stairs. "Like that's ever worked before."

The mother shook her head when the youngest of her sons was out of the room. It was getting harder to keep the peace in the family these days. Despite being only eighteen months apart in age, the two boys were as different as night and day and mixed together like fire and gasoline - explosively.

Laura could remember a time when her sons had been practically inseparable. Best friends for the first half of their young lives, they did everything together. They played together, Frank would help the younger boy with homework, and Joe would teach his older brother some of the finer points of sports.

It hadn't been like that in years. Not since Frank had graduated from elementary school into junior high. With new friends and not wanting to be seen with his "baby" brother, Frank started doing more without Joe. When Frank went off to high school it only got worse. Now, in the two months since Frank turned sixteen and successfully attained his driver's licence on the first try, the older boy wanted nothing to do with the younger.

Joe wasn't any better. As the rift grew between the boys, the fiery blond was antagonistic to everyone and lately he particularly enjoyed pushing Frank's buttons. It was a wonder her sons didn't sport more bruises than they did. The way the two of them fought, she was lucky they hadn't resorted to physical violence. Yet.

Tidying the kitchen, Laura sighed. It was mornings like this that made her thankful she had been an only child.

--HBHBHB--

Sitting in his mother's car, Frank had a scowl on his face as he watched the front door of the public Library. He glanced at his watch, snarling when he saw he'd been sitting there for more than twenty minutes already.

Joe and the others were supposed to have been outside waiting for him but, as always, Joe was not where he was supposed to be. And now Frank was going to be late for his Karate class and get in trouble – again, because of Joe! – with his sensei.

Patience long spent, Frank turned the engine off and yanked the keys from the ignition. He slammed the door and locked it with the remote as he stormed up the library steps.

Inside, unaware of the approaching danger, Joe sat on a sofa in the Young Adult section, his arm resting comfortably around his girlfriend's shoulder. Iola Morton leaned against his chest as they shared a social studies text book. Across from them, relaxing in an over stuffed bean bag chair, Biff Hooper was making notes in the binder on his lap.

None of them were ready for the sudden yelp from Joe as a heavy hand gripped him by the back of his shirt. "Get your butts off this couch and outside. Now!"

Iola gave a little squeal as the boy beneath her was yanked to his feet by a very angry older brother. "We were just studying, Frank!" She exclaimed, glaring daggers at her boyfriend's brother.

"I don't care, Iola." Frank snapped letting go of Joe's shirt when the three teens started gathering their things. "You were all supposed to be waiting for me on the curb a half hour ago. Because I had to come in here to drag you outside, I now have only five minutes to get across town and into gear before Sensei kicks my butt!"

"Chill, Frank," Joe shouldered his back pack, the dark scowl on his features equalling the one his dark haired sibling wore. "You can just drop us off at the house-"

"Forget that," Frank snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You guys can wait in the car while I'm in class."

"But my mom's picking me up at your place in fifteen minutes," Biff complained.

"Tough, Hooper. Maybe next time you'll watch the clock more carefully." Frank marched behind them as he escorted them out of the library. "There's a pay phone outside the Y. You can call her to pick you up there. For now, you'll just get into the car and shut your mouths. Am I clear?"

"God," Iola sneered. "When did you become such a jerk, Frank?"

"About the same time I had to start playing chauffer to a bunch of ungrateful brats!" Frank unlocked the doors to the car with remote. "Now get in."

None of them wanted to sit in front with the older teen, so Biff, Joe and Iola all climbed into the back of the car. Before their doors were even shut Frank was pulling out of the parking lot with a squeal of the tires.

Joe sighed quietly, letting his hand wander until it found Iola's. She glanced at him and offered a weak smile. He just shrugged and stared at the back of his brother's head.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for them to make it through the late afternoon traffic. In that time, Frank had gone from a quiet simmering anger to full out seething rage. He would glare at them in the review mirror any time they hit a red light, or got stuck behind a slower driver, or whenever one of them opened their mouth to speak.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the YMCA, the tension in the small vehicle was palpable. The teens in the back visibly flinched when the older boy slammed the car into park, turned off the ignition and spun around to face them.

"Go call your mother, Biff. You too, Iola. Joe, you keep your butt in this car until I'm ready to take us home."

Joe narrowed his eyes in an annoyed scowl. "Frank-"

"So help me, Joe," he growled viciously. "If you move one inch from this car I will kick your ass into next week."

The youngest Hardy believed him and nodded.

Without another word Frank exited the car, slamming the door behind him as he jogged toward the building with his gear.

Biff shook his head and pushed the back door open. "Why do you let him treat you like that, Joe?"

Sliding along the bench seat, the three stepped out onto the asphalt. "And what would you have me do, Biff?"

"Stand up to him, for starters," Iola huffed, slinking her arm around Joe's waist and slipping her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

Mimicking her, Joe let his thumb hook through one of her belt loops while his fingers rest inside her pocket. "You're not the one who has to live with him. Beside, it's normally not so bad. I just riled him up this morning, that's all."

The friends walked across the parking lot to the payphone. Biff snorted as he picked up the receiver. "Joe, he's a bastard these days and you know it."

Joe glared at the larger boy. "That's my brother you're talking about, Hooper."

"You've called him worse."

"Yeah, well that's me. I can call him what I like." Joe shook his head as Biff deposited a couple of coins into the telephone. "Just don't be saying stuff like that about my brother, okay?"

"Fine, whatever," Biff turned away from the young couple as he started speaking into the receiver.

"He shouldn't treat you like that," Iola said quietly, snuggling up to his side and resting her chin on his arm. "Big brother or not, it's not right."

Smiling at her concern, Joe gently kissed her forehead. "It's just the way of older brothers. Chet's just as bad with you."

She sighed contentedly at the touch of his lips. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Yeah Mom, I'll tell her. See you in a bit." Biff hung up the phone and turned back to his friends. "She'll be here in about five minutes. Iola, she's offered to give you a ride home so your parents don't have to cross the city to come get you."

"I'll thank her when she gets here." The girl sighed again, this time plaintively as the trio walked back to the car. "I guess I won't be seeing you tomorrow then, Joe?"

The blonde shook his head slowly. "After today I better not push my luck. When Mom gets home and we're not there she'll know something happened. When I come home with Frank I'll be up a creek for sure. We'll do something Monday after school. Maybe head over to Mr Pizza?"

She smiled and nodded. "Sounds like a date to me."

Joe kissed her lips chastely. "It is, if I don't get myself grounded."

"Just tell Frank to get the stick out of his butt," Biff grumbled, grabbing his books and back pack from inside the Hardy's car.

"Biff," Joe said in a warning tone as Iola reached in for her things as well.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hooper shrugged. "Makes me glad my older brothers moved out when I was young enough to still hero worship them."

"That's what happens when there's an eight year age difference between you and the youngest of your three older brothers." Iola huffed. "Try only two years."

"Or less," Joe chuckled. "Face it, we'll always be the younger siblings and it'll always suck."

"Big time," Biff agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who's read the first chapter and placed the story on alert. I know there hasn't been a lot of action, so the fact that you're all willing to read it still when it's so up in the air is very flattering.

To the reviewer Linda, yes I know the boys are only typically a year apart, however more than likely there are more than 12 months between their birthdays. It's mentioned that Frank only recently got his license at the age of sixteen and that Joe will be turning fifteen in a few months. I tend to give them about 16-18 month difference in my stories.

A special thank you to CherryBlossomSandy, Nonnimus, SecondStarToTheRight18, franknjoe, Chrome, and LizMary96 for taking the time to leave your comments. Reviews feed THE MUSE!

I feel I need to clarify, that I do intend on finishing this story at some point. Because it's being worked on in between other projects it's not going to be for a while. I've four pieces I'd like to have written before the end of the year which will take me a while. We'll see how it goes and who knows, maybe THE MUSE will have this one done before the others. It's an adventure for all of us! Lol

I you all like the second chapter.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own them, much to my disappointment.

CHAPTER TWO

The parking lot was nearly empty of vehicles by the time the Karate class started filing out of the main entrance. It was the last class on the weekend, letting out after most of the building was vacant.

Joe set his school book on the dash of the car and watched as the students of varying ages exited the center and to their vehicles. Several walked down the street, the boy assumed to the bus stop that was on the next block over. A couple of teens he didn't recognize headed his direction and one leaned on the roof of his mother's car, peering in through the open window.

"You Frank's brother?"

"Joe, yeah."

"Sensei's got him doing some extra katas tonight since he was late." The teen explained. "Frank said you were out here waiting for him, said you could come in or stay here. It's up to you."

With a tap to the car, the boy and his buddies walked away, getting into a truck before leaving Joe alone in the empty lot. Only an old, rusted grey Suburban sat in the far corner of the lot, abandoned probably soon after it was made in the seventies.

Joe sat in the car, chewing on his lower lip as he contemplated staying or going in. He could use a bathroom. With that thought he climbed out of the car, hoping his brother still had the keys as he rolled up the windows and made sure the doors were locked.

Inside the dimly lit building he passed a couple of janitorial staff on his way to the gym. They regarded him curiously but didn't stop him as he walked through the hall. A moment later he was opening the heavy doors to the facility's gymnasium.

Frank was standing in the center of the work out mats, his body moving with practiced precision as his Sensei walked around him in a slow circle, barking out instructions in Japanese. At a word, Frank would strike his fist through the air; with another he lashed out with a vicious kick; another command and he executing a surprisingly graceful spinning aerial roundhouse.

Spying his brother's backpack on the bottom stair of the bleachers, Joe sat beside it, all the while watching. He couldn't stop from wondering if he would have been as good as Frank, had the younger boy stuck with it when they'd started taking Karate as kids. A second degree black belt at the age of sixteen was something to be proud of; Joe wouldn't deny his brother that.

But as he watched the katas, seeing the anger simmering in the other boy's dark eyes, Joe began to doubt the 'to purge oneself of selfish and evil thoughts' philosophy he remembered from his first few lessons. Frank was so angry lately, and it always seemed like it was directed toward him. He got that brothers were suppose to argue, to fight and get on each others nerves, but this afternoon was something different. Something had set the older boy on edge and Joe couldn't imagine what it was. If he was a little surer he wouldn't get his butt kicked, he'd have asked Frank what was going on.

His musings were interrupted by the sudden quiet and he blinked once, watching Frank bow to the Sensei who returned the gesture. Together, the two stepped off the mat and the older man clapped the boy on the shoulder. "You need to watch the attitude, Frank. And next time, don't be late."

Joe lowered his head away from the angry glare directed his way as his brother responded. "I'm sorry, Sensei, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." The instructor smiled when the pair stopped in front of the bleachers. "Hello Joe."

"Hello Master Shihankai," Joe greeted the man with a soft smile.

"It's getting late boys," Shihankai said with a glance at the skylight, "near dark. Would you like me to walk you out to your car?"

Frank shook his head. "Thank you, Sensei, but that won't be necessary. You're parked on the other side of the building and I wouldn't want you to stay here any longer than you need to."

"If you're certain. Keep practicing for that tournament next month, Frank." The older man bowed again to the boys before disappearing into the locker room.

"Let's go," Frank said as he picked up his pack.

"Aren't you going to change first?" the blonde Hardy asked getting to his feet and following Frank into the hall.

"We're going to be late for supper if we stick around here much longer," was the growled answer. "I can shower and change when we get home."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Come on, Frank. You can't still be mad at me-"

"Want to bet?" Frank shook his head. "Just don't talk to me."

_Great…_ He stopped and motioned to the washroom as they passed. "I need to use the bathroom before we head home."

"Fine, but make it quick. I'll wait for you in the car. Five minutes, then I'm leaving without you."

A minute later Joe was walking through the dark corridor toward the main entrance. As he pushed one of the doors open he came to an abrupt stop at the sight that greeted him outside.

Frank had been beset upon by three masked men, surrounding the teen, but they were having little success overpowering him. Joe stood transfixed by the fight, amazed at the way his brother moved. He knew how skilled Frank was, but seeing him in actual combat rather than a tournament setting was nothing short of incredible.

But when a forth man leapt out of the white cargo van and into the fray, Joe saw the odds shift against the older Hardy. With a sucker punch to side of Frank's head, Joe watched him go down and the men swarm him.

"Hey!" Running the short distance from the entrance to the pavement, Joe jumped onto the back of one of the men and wrapped his arms around the thick neck. "Leave him alone!"

"What the-!" Stumbling back from the fight, the goon reached up and was grabbing at Joe's shoulders, trying to pull the boy up and over his head.

"Stop!" He heard Frank shout a moment before Joe was airborne and slamming into the pavement, knocking the breath from his chest.

Blinking heavily, Joe saw the older boy on his knees. Two of the men held Frank's arms behind his back while the third began wrapping several loops of thin, nylon rope around his wrists.

"Who's the punk?" The forth thug towered over Joe.

"No one," Frank answered before Joe could open his mouth, wincing at the painful pinch of the rope as it was knotted in place. "He's just some kid; leave him alone."

_Just some kid…!?_ Joe bristled at the words, but the anger fled the instant he met Frank's gaze and saw the fear blazing within those dark eyes. He didn't think anything scared his older brother, but he supposed getting attacked and tied up could do that to a guy.

But it was the next words Frank said that had Joe realizing just how wrong he was.

"Look, I'll cooperate if you leave him alone."

Frank wasn't afraid for himself, he was afraid for Joe!

There was a momentary silence between the men before the one behind Frank spoke up. "Bring him too. The boss can sort it out."

"No!" Frank yelled as he was dragged to his feet and toward the cargo van. "Somebody, help! Hel-ph!"

Joe only had a second to wonder why his bother suddenly went silent when a vice-like grip on his arm pulled him off the ground. The beefy man in front of him prevented him from seeing where Frank was, and the younger Hardy started twisting and struggling to get away as he was carried toward the open side door of the van. He managed to turn his head and sink his teeth into his attacker's hand before he was tossed into the vehicle.

He landed against one of the other kidnappers where his arms were immediately yanked behind him and held there painfully. He cried out at the discomfort and a heavy hand was clamped over his mouth. He continued to struggle, but the grip was too strong and he stopped fighting a few seconds later.

The door slammed shut, trapping the boys inside.

In the low glow of the overhead light, he saw Frank fighting as much as the teen could against the one attempting to bind his feet together with a second length of rope. The gag taught between his bother's lips explained why the shouts for help had gone suddenly quiet.

"Guh-! Son of a bitch!" The thug staggered back when Frank's heel connected with his chest, but before the boy could kick the guy again his foot was grabbed and viciously twisted, causing the lower half of his body to bend awkwardly.

Joe winced at the sickening pop of a knee that was quickly drowned out by the muffled scream of pain from his brother. Frank went still on the floor of the van and his ankles were quickly lashed together. His eyes were clenched shut but there was no stopping the tears that escaped from beneath his lashes.

The two front doors opened and shut quickly as the two other goons climbed into the vehicle and a moment later they were driving out of the parking lot. Their masks were off, but from his place in the back Joe couldn't see their faces.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…! _The youngest Hardy fought against the rising panic that churned his stomach. They had been kidnapped! Honest to god, kidnapped! This sort of thing didn't happen, not in Bayport!

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…!_

Their Dad… it had to do with their Dad. He was a detective and had worked some pretty serious cases in the past. He and Frank had been warned since before they moved from the city to the suburb that someone might try to use them again their father. But in all the years, no one had actually tried!

And worse, they hurt Frank. They really hurt him! Watching the older boy, Joe couldn't remember the last time he had seen such agony etched on his brother's face. The older boy's eyes were closed, his brow wrinkled with effort as he struggled to breathe through the pain.

"Give me some rope." The goon holding on to Joe interrupted the boy's thoughts and he felt a shiver of fright run up his spine at the thought of being tied up and even more powerless.

"There isn't any more." The other man sitting in the back with them shook his head, rubbing at the spot Frank had kicked. "We weren't prepared to grab two."

_I hope it hurt, you creep! Wait… What!? They weren't…? They were only there for Frank?_

"Hold him still." The grip holding him immobile tightened and he was unable to stop the other man as he proceeded to wind layer after layer of black tape, that had been found in a tool box, around his ankles.

Joe managed a shout of protest when the hand was lifted from his mouth but, like Frank, he was silenced quickly when the tape was adhered over his mouth. A moment of futile struggling later, his hands were criss-crossed behind his back and secured with the thick binding.

As he was shoved to the floor of the van beside Frank, silence fell over the interior of the van.

"Search the kid," one of the men from the front said after a minute. "He may have some ID on him."

He tensed when the same thug that had held him began to go through his pockets. The thin wallet was kept in his back pocket and discovered in seconds. It was flipped open and the man started to chuckle as he pulled out Joe's school ID. "Well I'll be damned. Boss is gonna like this."

The card was passed up to the passenger and a second laugh sounded inside the van. "Joseph Hardy."

"Hardy's other son?" The driver asked with a gleeful tone.

"Heh, the big bad detective isn't going to know what hit him."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Once again, I want to thank everyone who read the last chapter. I know its frustrating waiting for updates, and I appreciate all of you for adding TTW to your story alerts. =)

To the anonymous Jezz: I would have sent you a review reply as I like to do with all my reviewers, but since you did not use a registered account I would like to address your question now. I've begun posting this story before it is completed with the hopes that the comments, reviews and encouragement of the readers can get me through a bit of a writing dry spell. I have several stories on the go as well as prepping for NaNoWriMo. I do want to finish this story, and I sincerely hope it doesn't take to the end of the year.

Also, I would like to express my gratitude to the following readers for their comments. They really do inspire me to keep writing when I get discouraged. SecondStarToTheRight18, franknjoe, Nonnimus, ArgentSkye, Tifal55, AZWriter, ukfan101, Midst Ride, Miss Fenway (for both chapter reviews), and Chromde; thank you so much for voicing your thoughts!

In regards to this chapter, thus is the beginning of the mild abuse I mentioned in the warning on chapter one. It really is minor, especially compared to some of my other stuff. *grin*

**DISCLAIMER:** I own them! They're all mine! Mine I tell ya!!! ... ... Hey, a girl can dream can't she? =P

On to chapter three!

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

It was hard to think past the pain that radiated through his leg but when the overhead light was extinguished the momentary blindness was enough to have Frank in a near panic. His already racing heart leapt harder inside his chest, seizing the breath in his lungs. Unable to breath through his mouth was only making in that much more difficult to catch his breath.

Beside him he felt his brother's bound body shift and the boy's finger's brush against his arm. The light contact reminded him he wasn't alone, which was a blessing and a curse. Joe was there with him but he was in just as much trouble as Frank.

_He's got to be as scared as I am._ Painfully, he turned his own body onto his side, his numbing fingers finding Joe's and gripping them as much as he could.

Frank's breathing eased as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see the shadowed shaped of the men that had grabbed them.

_Why is this happening?_ He watched the two goons in the back of the van with the brothers, willing them to say something; to tell him what they wanted.

The darkness remained silent.

They drove for about fifteen minutes before the van slowed and pulled over, the light turning on again and briefly blinding him. The thug that had held onto Joe grabbed the younger boy by the leg and pulled him away from his brother, their fingers unable to hold on. He moved in the cramped space to settle between the two boys and drew something from his pocket.

Frank stiffened when the man, with a flick of his wrist, opened a deadly looking butterfly knife and held it menacingly toward him. His chest rose and fell with his frantic breathing as he shook his head and tried to pull away from the goon.

The man growled and tugged at the black belt around Frank's gi, pulling it off in one swift yank. A moment later the knife was slicing through the sleeves of the white training uniform and the garment was removed. The shaking boy hoped that was it, that they would leave him alone now, but when the guy tossed the top to the other man Frank realized they were just getting started.

He couldn't stop the moan of pain that the edge of the knife elicited from him when it cut into his upper arm. From behind the goon he could hear Joe's stifled protests and clenched his eyes closed again when the blade was dragged several inches across his arm.

_Don't kill me, _he heard himself praying silently_ Please, God, don't let them kill me!_

The pain in his arm suddenly intensified and his eyes flew open. The tip of the knife was pressed into the blood oozing from the wound and he was mortified when the man started writing on the remains of his gi with his own blood. It was done a few more times; the dagger dipping into the blood like some morbid ink well.

"It's done," the second man held up the garment and revealed the wording on the largest space.

**Reconsider.**

_Reconsider what?_ Frank wondered.

The kidnapper in the passenger seat reached back and took the now blood stained fabric and stuffed it into a box along with Joe's ID card. He sealed it with the same tape that had been used on the younger brother and opened the door. As he climbed out, Frank caught a glimpse of the reflection in the side-view mirror and his heart soar.

They were parked outside their house!

Through the opened front door, the boy could hear the solid knock on the house door and lifted his head, the image in the mirror shifting until he could see what was happening.

_Mom!_ Frank's shout was muffled and he knew the sound wouldn't escape the confines of the van. _Mom, we're here!_ The ropes on his wrists bit into his skin as he started to pull against the bindings. _Oh God, please! We're right here!_

He saw his mother accept the box with a curious glance at the man, but the kidnapper turned abruptly and was walking briskly back to the van when Fenton joined his wife at the door. A second later the thug was seated back inside the vehicle and the door closed.

_No! No, Mom! Dad! We're in here!_ Frank strained against the knots, the rope becoming sticky when they sliced into his arms and blood began to soak into the fibres.

Terrified, pain filled tears stung his eyes as the van pulled away from the curb and he let his head fall to the cool metal of the van's floor. _God please… Please, Dad! I can't… I don't… _

His mother's scream cut through the night, filtering faintly through the walls of the van, and he knew they had opened the package.

_Dad, help us please…_

-- HB – TTW - HB --

They were kept in the dark, literally and figuratively.

Unable to see more than a few feet in front of him, Joe was finding it harder to keep from giving in to the fear he was feeling. His body was stiff from where he had been forced to sit on the concrete floor, his back pressed painfully against the thick metal support he'd been tied to.

Worse part was, he knew Frank was somewhere in the unfinished basement with him. Hurt and bleeding and, if he was feeling anything like Joe at the moment, very afraid.

And they didn't know why.

Their abductors hadn't said a word to them in the time the boys had remained inside the van. It had been at least an hour, probably longer, before the journey came to an end and the captive teens were carried through an unfurnished house and down into their prison. Nothing had been said as their wrists were unbound briefly to allow their arms to be secured to separate supports. The tape on Joe's wrists had been replaced with rough cord that bit into his skin painfully. Then, the four men had just shut off the lights, closed the door, and a minute later they heard the van drive off.

Joe wasn't certain how long ago that had been. At some point, after several tries attempting to free his hands from the ropes, he had fallen into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

The opening of the basement door brought him out of the tentative slumber and the lights flared overhead. He blinked a few times, letting his eye adjust to the sudden brightness. Across from him, several yards away, Frank lifted his head and was watching the figure coming down the stairs, recognition bright in his dark eyes.

Joe glanced at the newcomer. The man wasn't tall, several inches shy of six feet, but he was thick with well defined muscles he showed off with a too tight t-shirt. His head was shaved and his eyes hidden behind an expensive pair of sunglasses. The fact he wasn't hiding his face left a heavy pit in the teen's stomach.

"Frank and Joseph Hardy," the man's voice crooned with chilling satisfaction. He lifted the sunglasses from his nose and set them atop his bald head as he descended the last few stairs. His cold, grey eyes fell onto the dark haired boy and a smug smile tugged at his lips.

The younger boy could only watch as the man approached his brother, crouched beside Frank and pulled the gag from his mouth. "You know who I am?"

Frank licked his dry and chapped lips, reluctantly meeting the man's gaze. "You're Domenico Tenuta."

The blood in Joe's veins ran cold. He had heard the name on the news just a couple days ago. Domenico Tenuta was married to Francesca Grandinetti, only daughter of Nicholas Grandinetti - a powerful man that had known ties to the mafia. Nicholas had been indicted on felony charges of extortion, aggravated assault, and for the murders of several high profile business men over the years. Nicholas' trial was to start Monday and was the hottest news story on the eastern seaboard.

"I'm flattered to see you remember me, Frank."

_Frank knows the guy?_ Joe stared at his brother.

"Threatening my father makes for one hell of a first impression," Frank replied, the faint tremor in his voice betraying his carefully hidden fear.

"Fenton was very rude to me in his office today."

"He won't be intimidated, not by someone like you."

There was obviously something going on that Joe had no idea about. He had been right to assume their situation had something to do with their father, but what Fenton Hardy had to do with Domenico Tenuta was beyond him. He desperately wanted to know what his brother knew!

"Perhaps, but then again he might just reconsider now that I. Have. You." The mobster punctuated the last three words with pats to Frank's cheeks, causing the boy to cringe away from the touch. Domenico chuckled and a cell phone appeared in his hand. "Let's find out, shall we? Give me the number, boy."

Joe saw a muscle in his brother's jaw twitch as Frank turned his head back to glare at the man. His eyes went wide when the older boy spat in Tenuta's face. "Go to hell."

Domenico sighed tiredly and wiped the spittle from his cheek. The backhanded slap resonated loudly in the empty basement and Frank's head snapped to the side with the blow. "Don't try me, Frank. Not unless you want me turning my attention to Joseph.

Frank's head snapped up, his cheek already reddening, and looked to Joe. Something flashed across his dark eyes but Joe didn't recognize the look. It was gone when the older boy turned back to Tenuta. "631-555-8499."

Joe narrowed his eyes in confusion. That wasn't their house number. It was the number to their Dad's home office. A second later he understood why. That was the number that had the tracing equipment!

Silence hung heavy in the basement while Domenico dialled the number and waited for the call to connect. A cruel smile turned his lips and he pulled the phone away from his ear. It clicked as it switched to the speaker. "Fenton, how are you this fine evening? Did you receive my package?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Where are my boys, Tenuta?"

At the sound of his father's voice, Joe felt the tears sting his eyes.

"We've been getting to know one another." Domenico held the phone closer to Frank.

Warily, Frank stared at the man briefly before speaking. "Dad?"

"Frank!" The relief in the voice on the other end was undeniable. "Are you okay? Is Joe with you? Has he hurt you?"

"You mean like this?" With his free hand, the mobster pressed down on Frank's swollen knee. The boy screamed and Joe cringed at the sound of his brother's pain.

"Don't touch him!" Fenton Hardy's voice roared through the phone.

Domenico eased off the leg and Frank's chin fell to his chest as he panted to catch his breath. "Here's the deal, Hardy: You and your partner refuse to testify against Nicholas and you get your boys back. Simple, no?"

"No," Frank groaned, lifting his head to glare at their captor. "Dad, you know he's lyi - ghn!"

Tenuta cut Frank off by pulling the gag back up into his mouth. "Shut up, kid, the grown ups are talking now."

"You've made a big mistake, Tenuta," Fenton's voice growled. "Does Nicholas know about this stunt of yours? He wouldn't have sanctioned something as foolish as kidnapping my sons!"

"Nicholas is old," Domenico snarled. "He doesn't know what's best for this family anymore."

"And you do?" the detective sounded doubtful. "What do you think is going to happen? Sam and I don't testify and your father-in-law gets off scott free? It doesn't work that way, Domenico. If anything, this is going to make things worse for him!"

"Yours is the most damaging testimony, Hardy!" The man yelled but Joe could see the hesitation in his eyes. "You keep your mouth shut and the DA's got nothing!"

"The evidence speaks for itself," Fenton said tersely. "Let my sons go and I'll forget this happened. Nicholas goes to jail; you take over as head of the family."

"Playing to my vanity, Fenton? How lowbrow. I thought you better than that." Tenuta sneered, his eyes borrowing into the teen before him. "You have until Monday morning, Hardy. If you or Radley show up at the courthouse your boys die, starting with Frank."

To emphasize his point, Domenico drove his meaty hand down onto Frank's knee again. Even muffled by the fabric of the gag, the scream of pain was gut wrenching. The phone snapped shut, ensuring that the last sound heard by the father was the cry of his eldest son.


End file.
